The Hogwarts Games
by LizzyCriss
Summary: "May the odds be ever in your House's favor." 15 year-old Harry Potter is chosen to fight in the annual Hogwarts Games, along with 23 other teenage witches and wizards. Who will be the last standing?
1. Chapter 1 - Goblet of Fire Drawing

Harry Potter of Number 4 Privet Drive woke to his uncle pounding his fist against the cupboard door. "Wake up! Get up! Today's an important day!" Uncle Vernon bellowed in-between pounds.

Harry groaned and sat up, taking his glasses from his nightstand and placing them on the bridge of his nose. He heard his uncle's heavy footsteps fade down the hall. _Why is today so important?_ He thought sleepily to himself. Harry glanced around his room – well, the cupboard under the stairs that served as his room – and tried to blink the sleep from his eyes. A letter on his nightstand caught his attention.

"That's right…" Harry muttered to himself. "Today is the Goblet of Fire drawing…"

Vernon's stern knocking returned. "Get up, boy!"

"I'm up, I'm up." Harry said, hastily pulling on clothes, tucking his wand in his back pocket.

He slipped into the hallway and turned into the kitchen where he was immediately greeted by the smell of bacon; which his cousin, Dudley, was already helping himself to. Uncle Vernon was sitting in his usual chair at the head of the table, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee. Aunt Petunia stood, piling more breakfast onto Dudley's plate. None of them acknowledged Harry when he walked in.

He sat down at the table and began nibbling on a muffin. "Have you had enough to eat, Duddy-kins?" Petunia asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Dudley nodded greedily, shoveling more food into his mouth. "Of course he has, Petunia." Vernon grunted, folding the newspaper down and setting it on the edge of the table. He checked the watch on his plump wrist. "We'd better get going, dear, it's nearly 10."

The Dursley's and Harry were out the door and in the car in less than two minutes, Dudley still with food in his mouth. Now, the Dursley's don't approve of magic or strangeness of any kind, but the annual drawing of the Goblet of Fire was the one exception. Ever since Voldemort (or You-Know-Who) took over the wizarding world many years ago, they've carried on the tradition of the Hogwarts Games. At the age eleven, every witch and wizard are sorted into one of the four Houses: Gryffindor (for the brave and chivalrous), Ravenclaw (for the clever and knowledge-seeking), Hufflepuff (for the fair and just), and Slytherin (for the cunning and ambitious). Harry was sorted into Gryffindor, the same House as his deceased parents.

After they are sorted, their names go into the Goblet of Fire every year. Twenty-four names are chosen and those picked will have to fight to the death on the abandoned Hogwarts grounds to achieve fame and glory for their House, while being broadcasted magically to the rest of the wizarding community.

Harry looked out the car window and watched the reluctant drops of rain roll down, as if in a race against each other. Harry's father was in the Games. He died before Harry was born.

Harry heaved a sigh as he continued tuning out the Dursley's upbeat conversation. The Durlsey's actually liked the idea of the Hogwarts Games because it meant that Harry had a chance of having to fight to his death. After his mother died when he was a toddler, he was sent to live with the Dursley's. None of them really had a say in the matter. But the idea of their… inconvenience being gone was definitely an attractive idea to them. Even though they didn't realize how much Voldemort and his followers ruled their lives too.

Finally, after what seemed more than Harry could tolerate of the Dursley's, they were in London. They dropped him off at the telephone booth, the same one he was always dropped off at. Vernon shoved a few dollars into Harry's hand and left without a word. He knew what the money was for; for finding his way back to Privet Drive if he doesn't get chosen.

Harry pushed his way into the red phone booth on the busy sidewalk and closed himself in. He dialed the number and found a familiar, cool female voice speaking to him. And the ground was slowly sinking, pulling him smoothly down a shaft to the underground building. Every year, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how none of the Muggles ever took notice.

Then he got a view of the black tile, the large stone statue of the Muggles holding up the wizards on their backs. The shaft came to an abrupt halt with a lurch. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic." The woman's voice said, the booth's doors opening to let him out. Her tone was in such deep contrast with the scene that surrounded Harry as he stepped out of the phone booth.

Wizards and witches hustled by, briefcases stiff at their sides, stern expressions on their faces. Occasional teenagers passed by too, many accompanied by family members. They were making their way over to the stone statue where the drawing would be held.

Harry checked his watch. He had several moments to spare. He followed the others to the statue. There were ribbons dividing the area into four sections; a section for each House. Harry stood in the red Gryffindor quadrant. He recognized most of the teenagers from previous years' drawings but some of the faces he saw in the crowd were brand new. Harry frowned as he noted that they must be the eleven year-olds.

Then the time had come. All the chimneys for the Floo Network dropped down bars as the green flames were extinguished. Black clad Death Eaters stood menacingly by them, looking through their masks at the crowd of nervous people.

Terror Harry knew too well crept up his spine as a round woman dressed entirely in pink stood at the podium. Her face always reminded him uncannily of a toad's. She held her wand to her short neck and cleared her throat. "Mm-hm." It came out as a high-pitched squeak.

An extremely tense silence fell upon the crowd of wizard-folk. Harry wiped his sweating palms on his jeans. "Welcome to the 24th Annual Hogwarts Games!" She smiled widely. No noise resonated from her audience. "I am Dolores Umbridge, member of the Wizengamot. Now, let's get the drawing started. Oh! And may the odds be ever in your House's favor."

She placed the Goblet of Fire on the podium, to her left, as to not obscure her toad-like face. The flames rising from the goblet's depths were blue, writhing unceasingly. Then the flames turned orange, the same shade of a normal fire and spat out a slip of paper. Harry swallowed with much difficulty. The older you are, the more slips of paper bearing your name in the goblet there are. This was Harry's fifth drawing; his name was in there five times.

Harry watched with bated breath as Umbridge scanned the piece of parchment and held her wand up with a pudgy hand to her throat. "From Ravenclaw House: Roger Davies!"

A boy stepped out of the blue quadrant and onto the stage. A woman who must be his mother began sobbing and gasping loudly into her husband's shoulder. Although Davies stood erect, his hand trembled when he reached out to shake Umbridge's hand. He looked to be in one of his last years of the drawings. He walked off the stage to meet a Death Eater who ushered him away.

The Goblet of Fire spat out another name. Umbridge placed it in her wide hands and raised her wand yet again to her throat. "Representing Gryffindor House," Harry's stomach lurched. "Ginevra Weasley!"

This time, several redheads just to the right of Harry reacted. A girl with blazing ginger hair stiffly made her way past the others and onto the stage. She was shorter than Davies was and much more fragile looking. Harry's heart sunk as he watched her shake hands with Umbridge and met the Death Eater offstage.

The Goblet of Fire turned orange again and tossed another piece of paper out. Umbridge grabbed it, not-so-gracefully, and spoke into her wand, "For Slytherin House: Blaise Zabini!"

A tall, broad-shouldered boy came to the stage. It sounded to Harry as though some people may have been quietly cheering for him. That made Harry sick. Some people thought it was an honor to fight in these Games and there were times when people even volunteered! Harry had joked once to the Dursley's about volunteering. They encouraged Harry to do so.

He decided in that moment that he would never volunteer to go through something so horrible and inhumane. _I won't be a part of their Games._ He thought as he watched Blaise swagger to the waiting Death-eater. Umbridge began speaking but he paid no attention. _I won't be._

"Harry Potter!" Umbridge's voice rang out through the hall.


	2. Chapter 2 - Weighing of the Wands

Harry was jerked back into his surroundings with a start. Sense dawned on him as he realized that his name was called. Harry's legs brought him to the stage absentmindedly. He felt completely numb and confused as he shook Umbridge's hand, never really feeling it. He walked to the Death Eater awaiting him. It all felt like a dream. A horrible nightmare that he just wanted to wake from.

Harry heard a new, foreign-sounding name being called behind him but he didn't listen. He just numbly followed the Death Eater. They came to a new room.

He heard the door swing shut behind him. Several chairs were to his left, one occupied by the Slytherin boy, Blaise, who was drawn before him. He looked surprisingly calm and relaxed, slumped in his seat. He looked up at Harry with brief curiosity written on his face that quickly turned into a dark glare. The Death Eater who escorted Harry gestured to a chair. Harry sat down awkwardly, staring at the black-tiled wall in front of him.

Suddenly, the door across the room opened and Blaise stood up enthusiastically, his face set. He disappeared into the threshold. Harry's heart began racing. What was waiting for him behind that door? Did he have to fight something? Someone? He started panicking.

Harry repeatedly wiped his clammy hands on his jeans, nervous thoughts racing through his head. He never knew what happened right after the teens were drawn or where the Death Eaters took them.

A particularly tall Death Eater led a thin, blond young woman into the room. She glided to one of the chairs. She seemed to be very tense and in spite of her stern expression, she was extremely beautiful. Her silvery blond hair flowed down her back in a way that reminded Harry of water. Even in a high-pressured situation, he couldn't help but marvel at her beauty for a moment.

Then the ominous door opened and snapped Harry back to reality. He stood up abruptly and made his way through the door.

He was greeted by a torch-lit room with many fireplaces along the wall and an old, withering man with pale eyes standing in the center. Harry reluctantly walked towards him, not sure of what to do. He had this strange feeling that he had already met this man before. The man reached his hand out, palm up, "Your wand, Mr. Potter?"

Harry drew his wand from his back pocket and handed it over. "Ah, yes. I remember this well." The old man said. Then Harry remembered: This was the wizard that gave him his wand! "Holly, eleven inches, supple, with a phoenix feather core. It feels like it was just yesterday when…" He examined Harry's wand, holding it up very close to his eyes.

Harry remembered the day very well too. After several wands not working, this wizard gave him the holly wand which worked perfectly. He kept saying it was very peculiar because the phoenix that gave a feather for Harry's wand had also given one other to the wand of Lord Voldemort's. He called the wands "brothers".

The old wizard muttered a spell and green sparks shot out of the wand. "Your wand is in fine condition, suitable for the Games." He handed Harry his wand back.

The Death Eater that followed him in approached Harry and held out a chewed-up dog toy. Harry stared at it for a brief second in confusion then took it in his right hand. Suddenly, he felt a jerk behind his naval as his surroundings fell away. Shock ran through Harry like a waterfall, from head to toes. It felt like Harry was spinning quickly through the air, spiraling towards Earth.

Then he was on the ground again, except he wasn't in the Ministry anymore, he noted as he looked around. He was in what looked to be a pub; there was a bar and many tables with chairs occupying the room.

A man appeared, descending the stairs, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Harry, giving him a few-toothed grin and gestured for him to follow as he headed back up the stairs. Harry obeyed. He knew if he stepped a toe out of line, it could result in a fate worse than the Games.

They turned into a hallway with many doors lining it, each with a brass number. Harry found it funny how no one bothered explaining anything. They all just mutely directed him. They came to number eleven when the man halted and opened the door, politely motioning for Harry to go inside. He did so.

It was an average motel room with a shuttered window, a four-poster bed, dresser, and full-length mirror. Harry looked around himself. "Excuse me, sir," he said, catching the departing man's attention, "Am I staying here? I mean, until the Games?"

He merely nodded but Harry felt more relaxed. _Nothing is going to happen tonight._ He let out a sigh and the man's grin broadened.

Harry walked over to the bed and collapsed there, gazing up at the ceiling. Many nervous, terrifying thoughts threatened to intrude but he swatted them away. He yawned and rolled to his side, pushing away all thoughts except of sleep.

Harry was sluggishly pulled from his dreamless rest by a loud voice. What was it saying? He sat up and tried to concentrate on the words being said. "All those in Gryffindor House, please come downstairs immediately to have a meeting with your Head of House." The female voice was being projected magically. Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose; he had fallen asleep with his glasses on.

He crossed to the door and slipped into the hall, going down the staircase and into the room he had first arrived in. A very stern-looking witch with square spectacles sat at the biggest table waiting, a blond girl sat to her right, a small boy to her left. Harry sat down in the seat by the young boy which was nearest to him.

A boy that looked to be Harry's age came down the last steps and seated himself by the blond girl, eyebrows angled in concern on his round face.

Very shortly after him, a girl came hopping down the steps, very bushy brunette hair bouncing with her. As she approached the table, a group of four gingers followed, all choosing chairs by each other. Harry recognized at once that they were all closely related, two of them were even identical twins. The red-haired girl was the same girl Harry saw being chosen earlier that day. The other tall, lanky ginger boy, that was definitely part of the family, sat next to Harry.

"Good, it looks like we're all here," the witch with the spectacles said, breaking the silence, "Now we can begin. I am Minerva McGonagall, but please refer to me as "Professor McGonagall". I am your Head of House, or in other words, your trainer. My job is to make Gryffindor House as successful as possible in the Games and oversee that each of you is the best you can be by the time you get to the Hogwarts grounds. As I'm sure most of you already know, I can no longer help you once the Games have officially started, with – of course – the exception of sponsors who can send you items at any point during the Games. You earn sponsors from your score given to you by the Wizengamot after training and your interview after that. I'll also be ensuring you do well in your interview. First impressions are very important."

At this, McGonagall paused and looked each of them in the eye. "I cannot stress to you how helpful, and sometimes vital, sponsors are. The more people you have rooting for you, the more likely it is for our House to win." McGonagall paused again and let out a sigh. "Gryffindor hasn't won in seven years but this year, the odds really are in our favor. We may actually have a chance this year against Slytherin."

One of the twins scoffed as the twin nearest Harry said, "Slytherin's full of nasty cheaters. They never deserve to win." His brother nodded.

McGonagall, acting as if she never heard his comment, continued, "Tomorrow morning, bright and early, we'll be going back to the Ministry to train. Some advice: don't show your strengths during the training. Save that for when you're alone with the Wizengamot. Just try to learn new skills to use. I trust that you've all been doing well on your homework the Ministry has been sending you." She had an air of scolding with this last sentence. Harry had been doing his assignments and practicing minor spells but it was no cake-walk. He had to be very aware of his surroundings and make sure the Dursley's didn't catch him.

"There will be different stations you can go to that specialize in certain areas that may become relevant during the Games and professors there to help instruct you. Please keep this in mind: I want you to act as a team, represent yourself as a team, and fight as a team. Now," McGonagall stood up. "I want you all to be rested and on your best behavior tomorrow. Off to your bedrooms."

They all landed in the training room with a loud thump. The Gryffindor's looked about themselves at the many stations around the large room. There was a flying station with broomsticks and Quidditch balls, an Arithmancy station, an Astronomy station, a Magical Creatures station, and so on. All the other Houses, like the Gryffindor's, were wearing their colors: Red and gold for Gryffindor, black and yellow for Hufflepuff, blue and bronze for Ravenclaw, and silver and green for Slytherin.

Breakfast was nice at the pub/inn that Harry learned was "The Leaky Cauldron". Only the ginger boy ate like a glutton, but even then, he couldn't top Dudley. Harry ended up eating plain bread and bacon because the red-head girl dropped the butter dish when Harry came in. He didn't blame her, everyone seemed a little apprehensive.

After they all got a good look around, they separated to different stations. The round-faced, nervous boy named Neville went straight to the Herbology section where a blond Hufflepuff was already studying. The girl with very bushy hair sped off to grab a book in the Ancient Runes section. The blond girl, Lavender, went to the Divination section and sat at a table with a crystal ball in the center. A woman with big, round glasses sat down next to her.

Harry wasn't sure where to go first. He turned around to find only two members of his House still with him: the tall ginger and his younger sister. The girl blushed furiously when Harry looked at her and ran off to the flying station where her twin brothers were already whacking themselves with Beater's sticks.

The tall ginger boy had the same lost expression that Harry felt. "Where do you suppose we go first?" the boy asked Harry.

"I don't know. I guess it doesn't really matter, we have two weeks." He replied. The boy nodded in agreement. "There's no one at the Potions section…" Harry observed.

The boy laughed darkly. "With good reason."

Harry gazed around once more and saw a tiny man at the Charms section directing a couple Ravenclaw girls in how to do a spell. "That looks interesting. Let's go there."

They sat down in two desks next to each other and got out their wands. "I'm Ron, by the way." The boy said. "Ron Weasley."

Harry began copying the wand motions the professor was making. "I'm Harry. Potter." A book on the desktop caught Harry's eye. It was opened to a page with "The Patronus Charm".


	3. Chapter 3 - Wizengamot and Rita Skeeter

The next two weeks of training went by at an eye-blurring speed. Harry spent much time at the flying section (where Ginny's face would turn the same shade as her hair when she was there too) and a fair time at every other station – except Potions. He didn't like the greasy, hook-nosed professor who taught there. He was the Slytherin's Head of House. His cold eyes always glared at Harry with a hateful expression for some unknown reason. Most of the others didn't spent much time there either.

The day of showcasing for the Wizengamot sprang upon them very suddenly and stealthily, it took all the tributes by surprise. All twenty-four of them sat in a waiting chamber next to the training room. Professor McGonagall informed them at dinner the night before what to expect. They would each go in, one at a time, in order that they were chosen, with all the stations open to them. No professors there to assist them. _This_ is the time to really show off what the tributes were capable of.

The chamber was deathly silent until a Death Eater by the tall, black door held up a scroll and read, "Roger Davies!"

Harry felt a strong sense of Déjà vu as Davies made his way through the door, standing erect, puffing his chest out. When the sounds of his footsteps were swallowed, the chamber became once again silent.

Moments passed, and then Ginny was being summoned to the training room. She looked as delicate and fragile as a flower when she quickly left her seat. Harry looked to her brothers; Ron's face was very pale, even his freckles looked whiter as his eyes followed his little sister. And if you had never seen Fred and George (the twins) before, you might've never known they'd ever cracked a smile before, let alone laugh and joke 24/7.

Blaise preceded Ginny after a few moments, walking with that same air of calm and pride Harry had seen before. Nerves bubbled up, first through his stomach and then through his chest, then back down again.

Sooner than Harry would've liked, he was being called into the room. He crossed over the threshold and went to the center of the area. The Wizengamot members wore official black robes and sat in rows. They all looked rather uninterested and, well, bored.

Harry gazed about himself, wondering what he should do. He half-jogged to the flying station and grabbed a broom. Flying was definitely one of his strong points. He let the small, golden Snitch out of its bonds and let it buzz around and away from him. Harry furrowed his brow and gave a good kick-off, soaring up to the top of the vaulted ceiling. He searched for the Snitch, eyes darting around the room.

Then he saw it, somewhere near the Transfiguration section, a glint of gold. Harry sped off in its direction, dodging objects, weaving in and out of rows of desks. The Snitch was only a few feet ahead of him; he leaned forward, accelerating. He lifted his right hand from his broom handle and stretched it out to the flying little ball in front of him.

His fingers clasped around it. He came down to the ground, holding his fist around the ball still hopelessly beating its wings in attempt to escape. Harry was stunned to see that the Wizengamot hardly even noticed this feat. Someone brought them a feast, complete with a turkey, mashed potatoes, and assorted vegetables.

Harry bitterly put the Snitch back in the case of Quidditch balls and set the broom down. He didn't know what else he could do that could possibly take their notice. A frown weighed down his mouth as he once again gazed around. When his eyes met the Charms section, an idea occurred to him.

He delved into his pocket and brought out his wand. He let out a long breath. Harry raised his wand and said, "_Expecto Patronum_!"

A silver wisp was produced in front of him. This had happened all the other times Harry had practiced this, when everyone else was preoccupied during training.

_Come on, Harry, you can do this._ He repeated this thought over and over, pushing all doubt out of his mind. A memory came to him, the memory of finding out he was a wizard.

_You can _do_ this, Harry!_

He lifted his wand a second time and straightened his shoulders, full of determination. "_Expecto Patronum_!" he shouted.

A huge, silver figure erupted from the end of his wand. It shone so brightly and radiated so much warmth as it galloped around him. It was a stag. He knew that it was supposed to be a guardian, and that the guardian is unique to everyone, but why a stag?

He watched it intently, reaching out a hand to it as it approached him; it disappeared before Harry could touch it.

He became aware of someone staring at him. He turned to see all the members of the Wizengamot looking at him with strange expressions, their meal forgotten. They all looked shocked, some impressively so, some begrudgingly so.

Harry nodded to them, some old bitterness returning, and headed out the other door.

The tributes went to Diagon Alley that afternoon to get ready for their interviews. Harry found himself feeling extremely paranoid. He wasn't sure how his showcase went with the Wizengamot, he wasn't supposed to leave unexcused, and what did their shock even mean? Besides, he wasn't too keen on public speaking. Ron had said that the interviewer was a foul, loathsome creature that made everyone look bad.

The Gryffindor's personal stylist was a blond, smiley man named Gilderoy Lockhart. He winked every so often, making Harry feel slightly uncomfortable. The females of the group didn't seem to mind it though, on the contrary, they seemed to actually fancy him. Fred and George mocked him the entire time they were being fitted into their dress robes.

After Lockhart's assistants' useless attempts at flattening Harry's unruly hair, he was ready. Lockhart had put Harry in a bottle green set of dress robes that matched the color of his eyes. He was definitely the lucky one out of the group.

The Gryffindor boys met with McGonagall behind the stage that must have been magicked in the square during their make overs. They were in the left wing; the girls were to be in the right. "There are a lot of people in the audience - no use saying there aren't – but do _not_ freeze up! Like I've told you, just be agreeable and at least look relaxed. Don't give Rita any chance to put words in your mouth or twist what you're saying. And please, be on your best behavior." She said, sending the twins a stern look. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must have a word with the girls."

She briskly walked away and left the tributes in the dust. Ron, wearing rather lacy dress robes, nudged Harry and asked, "Does this look a bit frilly to you?" Harry held back a snicker and Ron wacked him in the ribs. "Did you hear that know-it-all girl earlier? She was going on about what a 'wonderfully talented wizard' Lockhart is… I'd bet you ten Galleons she'll ask for his autograph by the end of the night."

'The bushy haired girl' became 'the know-it-all girl' to Harry and Ron over the course of the two training weeks. During meals, she could be heard boasting about everything she read and everyone avoided her during training where she always corrected tributes and bombarded the teachers with questions.

The boys from the other Houses joined them, none mixing with outsiders. A Death Eater marched in with what looked to be a scoreboard. He magicked it to hang in mid-air. It read all the male tributes' names and a score to the right of that. The scores were out of twelve.

Harry's eyes went straight to his name which was second on the list. He had gotten a nine. Pleasant surprise swelled inside of him, proud of his high score. Only one other male tribute had scored higher than him, someone by the name "Viktor Krum" scored a ten.

The Death Eater got their attention and led them to the side stairs of the stage; the girls were coming on the other side. The boys sat in the back row where fourteen chairs awaited them on a slightly raised platform. The female tributes sat in the ten chairs in front of them. Harry couldn't recognize the girl sitting to the diagonal right of himself. She had brown hair slicked back into a bun and wore a blue gown; she looked stunningly pretty.

A new round of applause broke out as a witch with short, curly blond hair stepped into center stage. She waved and gave a big smile, seating herself into one of the two chairs in the spotlight. The sound in that area must've been magically magnified because when she spoke, she didn't need a wand or microphone. "Good evening, Diagon Alley! I'm Rita Skeeter, the Daily Prophet, here to interview this year's tributes for the Hogwarts Games!" The crowd applauded loudly. Rita set glasses on her nose and scanned a scroll of parchment. "Let's see… Ah! First up, Miss Hannah Abbott!"

Hannah, wearing a long, purple gown interviewed first. Then Lavender from Gryffindor and a very pretty Ravenclaw girl dressed in gold followed her. He got a great shock later when he found out the stunning girl in the blue dress was the know-it-all girl from Gryffindor. Ron's face was absolutely priceless when she was introduced.

After eighteen total interviews, Rita Skeeter finally called Harry up to the seat across from her. He was greeted by a warm round of applause from the audience as he stepped into the bright spotlight. He was tempted to shade his eyes but he instead shook hands with Rita. "Harry! Please, sit down!" She gestured with long, claw-like fingers to the chair opposite of her. He obliged.

"So Harry, how _are_ you?" She asked with a wide, lipstick smile on her face.

"Er- I'm good." Harry replied.

"Good! So Harry, you scored a nine out of twelve… That's great! Congratulations!" Her teeth shined brilliantly white against the harsh lights.

"Thank you." Harry said, giving her a timid grin.

"Yeah! Now, tell us, Harry: How did you get such a great score? What is your secret?" She asked, rapping her talons for nails around her chin and leaning forward on her elbow.

Harry quickly wondered about telling her and decided against it. "Well, I think that's between me and the Wizengamot."

She gave a short chuckle. "Alright then. So I've heard that your father was also a tribute in the Hogwarts Games, is that so?"

"Yes." Harry nodded.

"And what House did he play for?" She leaned forward again onto one of her clawed hands.

"Gryffindor." Harry said curtly.

"Ah, yes, of course. Naturally." She said quietly, as if to herself. "So you were raised by muggles after your mother's rather sudden death. How do you like the wizarding world so far?"

"Well, I guess anything's better than living with the Dursley's." He answered quite truthfully. The audience laughed in response.

"I see! Have you made any friends in the competition?" Rita inquired.

"Um yes, Ron. Ron Weasley, he hasn't interviewed yet…" Harry trailed awkwardly but Rita luckily swooped in with another question.

"Do you think you're someone to look out for in the Games, Harry?"

"I think that Gryffindor House is definitely the House to look out for…so yeah." Harry answered.

"Oh! Do you think they're going to beat Slytherin this year? They have won the last seven years…" Rita said quizzically.

Harry paused briefly, "Yes…we will." He nodded.

Rita turned to the audience and stood up, Harry followed suit. "Harry Potter, wizards and witches!" They clapped enthusiastically for him as he walked back to his seat.

When the interviews were said and done, the formal wear back with the stylists, and the tributes back at The Leaky Cauldron, the night officially ended. Harry learned a lot about the competitors from the interviews, he even learned most of their names and Houses, but he didn't have much time to think about them – sleep was too persuasive.

The next morning, a tense atmosphere developed, as if overnight. They all knew that this was their last day of freedom (well, a little freedom) before they would be on the Hogwarts Grounds. They were to leave on the Hogwarts Express that night. With nothing to do, Harry and Ron took up playing Wizard's Chess in Harry's room to avoid the tension in the pub downstairs. Of course at mealtimes, this was inescapable; the glares, stares, and whispered conversations segregating each House had to be faced.

Professor McGonagall took the Gryffindor's aside and told them that they could each bring one item onto the Grounds. One personal item that had to be examined by the Head of House. Then McGonagall spoke to Harry alone. "Potter, I have something to give you." She presented a bundle of fabric to him. "It was your father's." Her mouth was in a grim line. "You must take it into the Games."

The fabric felt like threaded water as he moved his fingers along it. "Thank you…" he said. "What is it?"

"You'll see." And with that, she went away.

When the sun had long dipped below the horizon, the Heads of Houses gathered their tributes down in the pub. They each had a small, random object in their hands. The know-it-all girl had explained one night that these were called "Portkeys" and were (as Harry could already guess) for transporting. Professor McGonagall held an old, torn-up boot out to them. "Now, everyone, on the count of three… one… two… three." Harry felt the same jerk behind the naval and felt the dizzying flying sensation.

They landed in King's Cross Station, where all the other Houses dropped down shortly after. The train station was dark and completely empty except for their strange party. Dim lights flickered occasionally as they followed the professors, footsteps' echoes being the only sound throughout the building. The group halted at the pillar in between 9 and 10. Professor McGonagall turned to the tributes. "Now, everyone, we will be running through this pillar onto Platform 9 ¾. Professor Snape will be going first, his House following him, then myself and the Gryffindor's, Professor Sprout and the Hufflepuff's, and lastly, Ravenclaw with Professor Flitwick bringing up the rear to ensure no stragglers.

"To get onto the platform, just give a running start and go straight through the pillar. Professor Snape, if you'll please demonstrate."

The greasy, hook-nosed wizard backed a few meters away from the bricks then briskly jogged towards it, disappearing instead of what Harry thought for sure would've been a very hard smack on the wall.

McGonagall continued, "Slytherin tributes." She gestured to the place the professor disappeared to.

The six Slytherin's successfully crossed over through the barrier. Then McGonagall and the Weasley children went through. Harry knew it was his turn and he couldn't help but feel nervous. He gripped the water-like fabric to his chest, closed his eyes, braced himself, and ran at the brick wall.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Hogwarts Express

**Author's note:** So sorry I haven't been updating recently! I'll be updating more often now (thank you, summer!) and I hope to finish by the end of summer.

Harry opened his eyes and gasped in wonder as he registered what he saw: a platform with a large, red train shining gloriously even in the semidarkness. Professor McGonagall sternly ushered the gaping Harry onto the train. "You may sit in any compartment you'd like." She turned away to help the next Gryffindor coming onto the platform.

He filed into the hallway, searching for a familiar face. Ron burst out of a compartment. "Harry!" He waved him over. "What's that?" Ron pointed to the bundle still clutched to Harry's chest.

"Oh! Nothing." Harry didn't feel like explaining and wasn't even sure himself.

"Your item?"

"Yeah." Harry said. He could see that the other three Weasley's were already in the compartment. "Are you sure there's room for me?"

"Oh sure, Harry, we were just about to leave," Fred smiled as he and George passed Harry.

He sat down opposite the Weasley's. Ginny stared out the window; her mind was obviously miles away.

After a couple quiet moments, McGonagall rushed into their compartment carrying a large tote, trailing the other Gryffindor tributes. She closed them all in.

"Alright, so this is my last time speaking with you and I have some important information. Each House has a common room in the castle located in different places. Dormitories are attached to the common room where you can sleep. Now, listen carefully," McGonagall leaned in closer, "Yours is located on the seventh floor, there's an oil painting of the Fat Lady who will ask you for the password. It is _Fortuna Major_. Don't forget it."

"Wait a minute, Professor," George started, "but what if we all decided to just stay in our common room and never end up fighting?"

"Don't worry, the Death Eaters will find a way to pry you out and stir some trouble… Besides, you're Gryffindor's! You won't resist for long. Now let's see… Oh! There are spells preventing boys from going to the girls' dormitories. So don't even try." She eyed the boys warningly. "The girls can, however, go the boys'."

She opened the bag she was carrying on her shoulder. "Here are your robes," She handed them out individually, "You'll need to put them on before we get there. Okay, I think that's about everything. Seventh floor, the Fat Lady, _Fortuna Major._ Good luck to you all." She looked around sadly before she opened the compartment doors again.

The others left except for the know-it-all girl and Neville. Ginny still sat by the window holding her robes on her lap, Ron was seated next to her doing the same.

The bushy haired, know-it-all girl gazed around at the rest of the tributes with her. "I guess I never really introduced myself to you," She seemed to not being including Neville, however, "My name is Hermione Granger. What are yours?"

She looked around at them all expectedly. Finally, Harry answered her, "I'm Harry, this is Ron, and that's his sister, Ginny."

She nodded as he gestured to each of them. Ginny smiled politely but Ron ignored her completely in indignation. Hermione must have been unsatisfied with this because she addressed him directly, "You've got some dirt on your nose." She pointed to her own, "Right here."

He glared at her but he half-heartedly rubbed the area she indicated.

Hermione then spoke to Neville who was still hovering beside her. "I can't _wait_ to see Hogwarts!" she said. "It's so fascinating!"

"How?" Neville asked.

"I've read all about it in _Hogwarts: A History_." She nodded knowingly, "It's protected with enchantments so muggles can't see it. Plus, it's over a thousand years old. And it –"

"Are you serious?" Ron looked livid.

Hermione faced Ron, "Of course, why shouldn't I be?"

He looked at her in utter disbelief. "You're actually excited to see your grave?"

She answered in a defensive tone, "Well, I _could_ win, you know."

Ron scoffed, "If you weren't in Gryffindor, I'd off you myself!"

Hermione didn't return Ron's anger and lash out; she instead stayed silent for a moment. "Then perhaps it's a good thing the boys can't get into the girls' dormitories. Oh and by the way, you've still got dirt on your nose." She slipped out of the compartment, Neville followed her.

"Can you believe her?!" Ron asked Harry incredulously after they left, rubbing furiously at his nose, missing the smudge of dirt.

"Well… I guess you shouldn't have said that, Ron…" Harry said.

Ron opened his mouth as if to reply but Ginny rose from her seat and crossed to the doors. "Where are you going?" he asked instead.

She gestured to her robes, "To change."

"All right, be careful," Ron warned.

Shortly after Ginny left, a lady appeared with a trolley full of sweets. Ron and Harry took several of everything and after many pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, chocolate frogs, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans were consumed, their stomachs began feeling rather tight.

Ron offered Harry the last Chocolate Frog. He opened it up to discover a new card addition to the small pile already on the opposite seat. Before Harry tossed it over, the twinkle in the wizard's eyes stopped him. The wizard wore half-moon spectacles and had a long, silver beard and hair. "Who's this?"

Ron sat up with great difficulty and examined the moving picture. "Oh, that's Dumbledore! That's a very rare card! They stopped making them _years_ ago!" he said with excitement. "You see, Dad said that Dumbledore was the only person that You-Know-Who actually feared. After You-Know-Who took over… Anyway, Dumbledore's sort of an outcast now, on the run, you see. You-Know-Who has constant Death Eaters out looking for him but they can never find him." Ron lowered his voice, "They say he has some secret organization, that they're plotting against You-Know-Who…"

"An organization?" Harry asked, amazed.

"Yeah! 'Powerful man!' my dad always says,"

"Well, he must be, to make Voldemort fear him." Harry thought aloud.

Ron shivered, "_Don't say his name!_" He sighed, "But, is he powerful enough to bring You-Know-Who down?" He nodded grimly.

Suddenly, the doors to the compartment opened and a pale blond, lean boy invited himself and two troll-like cronies into the room. "Potter?" His pale, gray eyes found Harry.

Harry gaped, confused, "Yes?"

He straightened his suit jacket, "My name is Draco Malfoy." Ron openly snickered at this. Draco's thin face turned to him, "Do you think my name's funny? Well, I know who you are, _Weasley_." He spat out this last word as if it were profanity. "My father told me the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." The two massive lugs chortled stupidly at his side.

Ron's face went dark with embarrassment and rage. Draco just smirked. "You don't want to go making alliances with the wrong sort, now do you, Potter?" He now addressed Harry again. "With blood-traitors," he spat again in Ron's direction. Draco extended his right hand, "Are we alliances then?"

Harry looked uncertainly at Malfoy's hand and finally spoke, "I think I can find the 'right sort' for myself, thank you."

Malfoy held a cold scowl for a brief moment then turned, "Come on." He and his two ape-like cronies ambled out to the hall.

Ron snarled, "I hate that guy. His whole family is just…rotten. They're all Slytherin's, the whole lot of them, all pure-bloods. And they think just because of that they can boss everyone around! Well, my family is full of pure-bloods too!" His anger strained his voice. "And none of us are dark wizards…"

Harry nodded understandingly. He gathered already that the Weasley's were a large, very poor family, and even though they were all pure-bloods, the Ministry didn't like them; they were considered "blood-traitors".

Ron stared continually at the doors, "I wonder what's taking Ginny so long?" worry coated his face.

"We should probably change before she gets back," Harry suggested. Ron agreed.

The sky was turning slowly into lighter shades of gray when Ginny came back to the compartment. "Where have you been?!" Ron asked in an annoyed tone.

"I was just talking to the others…" she said it quietly but her expression told that she was equally annoyed. She sat down across from the boys, "I expect we'll be there soon."

Ginny shook her head at the many wrappers by her side and rummaged through the chocolate frog cards. "Oh sweet! Dumbledore!" She showed them excitedly. She looked at it again, "I could add this to my…" She trailed off, her smile sinking like a stone.

Silence hung in the air. Ginny resorted back to gazing out the foggy window until she took a leaf out of Ron's book and dozed off. Even though Harry was tired, he couldn't even manage the light, restless sleep his companions were having. He instead stayed locked inside his thoughts.

Suddenly the train came to a halt with a lurch. Ginny and Ron awoke with a start. "We're here." Harry said gravely. The siblings stayed perfectly still, mouths hanging open, waiting for something to happen. Harry peeked down the hall and saw several other heads doing the same. Finally, tributes began filing themselves out of their compartments; Harry, Ginny, and Ron followed suit.

A harsh coldness swept through Harry as he stepped onto the train platform. Hooded figures hovered nearby. McGonagall had told the Gryffindor's that these were Dementors, they were stationed along the perimeter of the Hogwarts Grounds to ensure (in collaboration with the many protective curses) no one escaped. And if they tried, they would meet a fate worse than death.

Nine red ovals were hovering on the edge of the platform beside the other House's. Fred and George already stood on theirs. Harry stepped onto his and looked ahead.

What he saw took his breath away. He now understood what Hermione meant when she expressed her wishes of seeing Hogwarts. Pink and orange streaks of the rising sun on the clouds gave a backdrop to a magnificent castle with many turrets and towers. The emerging rays of light cast a shimmer on the hundreds of windows, reminding Harry of a painted lighthouse. The vast castle stood with wise nobility; it was unlike anything Harry had ever seen before, something so proud yet so amiable. Perched atop a mountain, across a lake, it had an innocent appearance. Harry realized in this moment that this castle was built to teach magic, not be the gallows for the murder of children. He could no longer be accepting of Ron's view: a grave. Harry looked to his right to see his friend there, also taken away with the sight, and knew he also had changed his opinion.

Harry gazed again at the heavenly panorama and saw four tall poles near what he knew to be the Quidditch post. Each had the House's colors and flags. Gryffindor had the most flags and that drew the conclusion that this was how they were keeping tally. When a tribute dies, their flag is taken down.

To Ron's right was Ginny, eyes bright and mouth open in awe. Her face was calm for a brief moment then went rigid and stern again, her hands retracted into fists. To Harry's left was Hermione who seemed to be in the midst of an internal civil war and standing up so straight, Harry feared she might fall over if a breeze came.

All competitors gazed solemnly ahead at the castle, all tense with anticipation. All held fear in their hearts, some behind proud exteriors, and some wearing it on their sleeve. Harry wiped his sweaty hands on his robes. He vaguely noticed how parched he was. He swallowed.

Gold sparks rose above the castle.


	5. Chapter 5 - Let the Games Begin

**Author's note:** Sorry for the late update. Next chapter will be posted either this weekend or the beginning of next week! This is mostly a filler/transitional chapter but next chapter will have more action, character development, and all that good stuff. So enjoy!

The effect was instantaneous. The tributes, like a roaring fire, blazed across the grounds. Green and red jets of light darted about the slope, only narrowly missing Harry. He heard voices bellowing near him but he didn't dare turn around.

Harry began racing along the side of the lake, up the slopes of the grassy lawn, a painful stitch in his side. He saw in his peripheral vision someone fall and lay motionless but he kept running. He silently, desperately hoped it wasn't a Gryffindor. Yells and screams sounded as he entered the castle through the already opened entrance doors. Harry mentally repeated the directions to the Common Room as he scrambled his way up the staircase.

"Harry!" a panting voice called behind him. He turned to see a panting Ron climbing the stairs behind him. Harry hesitated for a brief moment to let Ron catch up. "Do you- remember – where – the- Common Room – is?" Ron heaved between breaths.

"Yeah. Follow me!" Harry replied.

They continued bounding up the steps until they reached what they thought to be the seventh floor. "Look for an oil painting of a fat lady!" All the inhabitants of the portraits in the corridors moved; they all watched Ron and Harry as they spoke to one another.

They scanned the walls as they paced along until they came upon an unusually large portrait that was undoubtedly the Fat Lady. "Here it is." Ron muttered. "_Fortuna Major_." The Fat Lady wore a grim expression and merely nodded to them as the portrait swung forward to reveal a hole.

Stepping through, they found a room decked out in the Gryffindor colors with armchairs, tables, and a big fireplace. "Blimey, so this is the Common Room." Ron whispered. "Hm. It's pretty nice." He stretched out on one of the couches.

Harry looked at the two staircases and guessed the one on the left, climbing up the stairs. "I think the dormitories are up here…" He glanced over at Ron who stood and followed.

They had just picked a room with five four-poster beds when they heard movement downstairs. Wands out, they cautiously descended the flight of stairs.

"Neville!" Ron said, relieved once he recognized the newcomer.

"Oh, good! It worked," Neville said, chest heaving, "I knew I would forget the password so I wrote it down." He pointed, "Are the dormitories up there?"

"Yeah," Harry answered, and then added, "You can room with us, if you want." Ron casted Harry a sideways glance.

"Oh! Okay, thank you." Neville gave them a small, grateful smile.

Suddenly, the portrait swung open and Lavender appeared, her blond hair sticking to the sides of her face. She looked at the staring faces for a moment then spotted a chair and sat in it. The others followed suit.

After a lengthy, silent pause, Hermione and Ginny tumbled into the Common Room. Ginny's pale face glistened with sweat as she helped Hermione to a seat. Hermione was hunched over and winced once she sat down. "Sorry." Ginny muttered.

"What happened to her?" Neville asked Ginny, frowning.

Ginny opened her mouth to reply but Hermione intercepted, "Is there any cloth or rag I could use?" she asked, holding her hand to her mouth, stemming the blood flow.

"Here," Ginny tore a strip of fabric off the bottom of her robes, "see if this helps."

The portrait swung open yet again to let in Fred, George, and an unconscious Colin. "He fainted." Fred explained. Ron stifled a snicker.

"What happened to her?" George asked Ginny, watching Hermione catch trickling droplets of blood.

Ginny opened her mouth to reply but Hermione interrupted again, "Nothing, it's no big deal."

They all were seated around the Common Room, silent with glassy eyes. It wasn't until Lavender asked, "Now what do we do?" that they realized there really was nothing to do. At least, for a while.

The only thing tougher than going to sleep hungry (which Harry had a lot of experience with from living with the Dursleys') is waking up hungry. And the Common Room had no way of providing satisfaction for this hunger.

Harry awoke that morning in his four-poster bed, a drooling Ron across from him and a snoring Neville to his side. Harry donned his robe and slipped down the dormitory's stairwell. Only two other people were awake: Colin and Ginny.

"Good morning, Harry." Colin said with a small smile. Ginny turned her face away from the window at the momentary surprise of conversation. Then turned it back.

"Er- Good morning, Colin," Harry replied half-heartedly, plopping himself down in the comfiest armchair.

"Is it true you scored a nine?" Colin asked hopefully, sitting very straight in his chair.

Harry was confused for a split second. "Oh! Yeah, I did…"

Colin's eyes went wide, "Wow. What did you do to get it?"

Harry looked back at Ginny and saw that she was listening too, even though she hadn't moved. "Well, it's a long story." It wasn't exactly true but he didn't feel like telling it.

Disappointment spread across Colin's face but Harry was quickly distracted from Ron coming into the room. "I wish we nicked some food from the train's trolley," He groaned, rubbing his stomach, "I'm starving!" He fell back onto the couch.

"Ron, you're always starving," Ginny spoke, finally walking away from the window.

"I'm kind of hungry too," Harry chimed in. He glanced over at his friend, limbs strewn across the couch. _Not as much as Ron though._

"How are we supposed to eat?" Ginny asked, leaning against Ron's couch. "Is that last person to starve the winner?"

"Well, some past tributes found herbs and berries in the forest. And others… I don't know," Ron lamely attempted to answer. "But _most_ don't starve. However, I might be an exception." He curled up, trying to doze off.

Fred and George came down the stairs, "Hungry, are you? We have good news then." George grinned. "We did some studying last night," Harry saw Fred tuck a piece of parchment deeper in his sleeve, "And we know how to get food."

"In fact, we were on our way out," Fred winked as they exited.

The Weasley twins came back through the portrait hole, arms overflowing with food. It was almost an hour after they departed and the other Gryffindor's had been growing anxious. Everyone was awake now and salivating over the smell Fred and George brought with them.

They decided to save some for the next day, "It's dangerous business," George explained, "I think a Ravenclaw spotted us. They must be looking for food too. Probably everyone is."

Fred glanced at Ginny, sitting across from Harry and snacking on a pasty. "Ginny, make sure you eat a lot, okay? More than that." Fred set a pudding in front of her, "Here."

When the twins wandered away, Ginny looked up at Harry, "Do you want this?" She gestured to the pudding.

"If you're sure you don't want it," Harry replied. Ginny handed it to him. "Thanks."

"No problem," Ginny offered him a soft smile.

Ron came marching over to them, steam practically coming out of his ears. "I can't stand that girl." He said before they even had the chance to ask. Harry saw immediately that he meant Hermione because she too was wearing a scowl. "Thinks she's _so_ smart! She didn't even understand Fred's joke!"

"She's not that bad," Ginny reasoned with him.

"Yes, she is. Harry, you agree, right?" They both turned to him beseechingly.

"Er- I guess," Harry answered timidly, receiving a sigh from Ginny and a "Ha!" from Ron.

The day went by with a surprising laziness. The sun arced high, blazing bright, until the mountains of the horizon extinguished it to glowing red embers. Its light slowly burned out and the moon overruled. Only two flags were taken down that day: two Hufflepuffs. That was half of their House gone. The night sky showed two faces in fake stars. Neville informed them that they were Justin and Hannah, who Harry remembered was blond though the incantation didn't show it. They all shuffled off to their dormitories, their moods solemn and sober.

Neville bore a troubled expression as he, Ron, and Harry sat on their beds. "Now that I think about it…" he broke the silence, "I might've seen Hannah get…" He struggled with the words then just left it to rest.

"I'm hungry," Ron said, massaging his stomach and changing the heavy subject. "How do you s'pose they got the food anyhow? Fred and George, I mean."

"I don't know," Harry replied, recalling the piece of parchment Fred had. "We should try to get some sleep."

Harry heard sniffles late into the night. He got a feeling none of them got much rest that night. _It's okay_, he thought, turning over on his pillow; _we'll get to sleep in tomorrow_.

But when the sky still wore a dark, gray cloak the next morning, he was quickly proven wrong.


	6. Chapter 6 - Common Room Battle

**Author's note:** Here's another chapter! We're starting to get to the action now! (Yay!) Enjoy!

Harry was thrust out of his dream and awoken. He lay in his four-poster bed, wondering why he was woken up. He stayed perfectly still, knowing that his sleeping mind must have picked up on something. He listened intently but other than Neville and Ron's peaceful snores, he heard only silence. Until… He heard something! A slight murmur coming from downstairs. Harry turned over in his sheets and assumed it was some of the other Gryffindor tributes.

But what if it wasn't?

Harry's eyes popped open and he crept quietly off his bed, setting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Ron," he whispered, "Ron, wake up." Harry shook his shoulder.

Ron groaned a little as he opened his blue eyes and took in the image of Harry. "What?"

"Sh!" Harry warned as Ron sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Be very quiet," he breathed, "I think… I think someone might've broken in."

Ron gave Harry a look. "How could anyone break in? It's probably just the others," he explained, as if Harry hadn't thought of this.

"I don't know…" Harry scoured his brain, "Maybe someone found out our password?" A muffled crash rang out. "Come on, let's just go see."

Ron heaved a dramatic sigh and walked in Harry's wake down the steps. Halfway into their descent, the duo heard voices conversing. They halted, exchanging a look, and cautiously continued a few more steps until they deemed it almost too close. They peered down at them, mostly obscured in shadow behind the railings.

"We already looked over there!" A girl with long, curly brown hair whispered frantically to a girl with a black pony-tail near the fireplace. They were wearing Ravenclaw colors. And they were clearly desperate to find something.

"It's probably not even down here," the boy Harry recognized as Davies snapped, "I'm telling you; we need to search their dorms."

The pretty girl with the pony-tail was clearly nervous. "We should leave! We'll get caught!" she whispered, looking at the other two imploringly.

"Leave and do what, Cho? Starve?" the curly-haired brunette spat. She looked to be one of the oldest tributes, along with Davies. "Keep looking."

"Penelope, I'm telling you; it's not here," Davies said.

"Maybe they ate it all?" Cho suggested hopefully.

"Maybe. We need to check their dorms," Davies looked at a torn Penelope, waiting for a reply.

"Let's go," Harry breathed to Ron, hurrying gingerly up the stairs, not waiting for Penelope's answer. "Neville, wake up! Wake up, the Ravenclaws' broke in!" Harry prodded Neville awake. "Get your wand! Hurry!"

"I still don't understand: How did they get in here?!" Ron asked, terrified.

Neville, sitting up now, put a hand to his open mouth. "I think I know… I lost the piece of parchment with the…password on it." He turned a sickly green color.

"_Neville!_" Ron sighed despairingly.

"And they must've followed Fred and George from when they got food… That's what they're looking for." Harry thought aloud.

Harry, Ron, and Neville hurriedly threw on their robes and grabbed their wands as they spoke in hushed voices. "We have to warn the others!" reasoned a very pale Ron. "How do we get to the girls?"

Harry remembered the enchantments preventing them from going to their dorms and knew they would have to encounter the Ravenclaws before even getting there. "I guess we go to Plan B."

"What's Plan B?" Neville asked, looking terrified.

"Scream." Harry answered with finality.

Ron let loose a horrible, wailing shriek. For a few dreadfully slow seconds, the castle stood still as a statue. When they heard muffled, confused voices, Harry's hopes rose. "RAVENCLAWS! THE RAVENCLAWS' BROKE IN!" Ron bellowed at the top of his lungs.

Feet sprinted down the stairs in panic. "Come on!" Ron called to Harry as he and Neville began to take off.

Harry eyed the fabric by his bed, his item. "Hold on," Harry stuffed the bundle into his robes as securely as he could and ran after Ron.

The common room was in complete disarray and chaos. Flashes of light sped in every direction, spells and curses flew. Fred met Harry's gaze as he struggled with a wild Penelope, Ginny at his side. "GO!" he yelled at him. "WE'VE GOT IT UNDER CONTROL!"

Harry pulled out the watery fabric from his robes and draped it over him and Ron. Ron swore and asked Harry what was going on. "I don't know! This might help block the spells!" Harry replied confusedly. They hurried to the portrait hole; their feet ran into something large on the ground. He looked down to see Colin lying perfectly still, face gazing up at them with unseeing eyes.

Harry stepped around the small pool of blood gathering around Colin, his throat feeling extremely taut. He and Ron continued out of the portrait hole, miraculously unnoticed by everyone.

Ron got out from under the fabric, looking as though he was going to be sick. "What the…" He stared slightly to the left of Harry. "Harry? What the crap? How'd you do that?!" He spastically jerked his head around.

"How'd I do what?" Harry asked, lowering the sheet of fabric off his head. Ron, wearing an expression of terror, slowly pointed wordlessly at Harry. Harry shifted his gaze down to see, not the fabric draped around his body, but nothing at all. Just the flagged stone hallway was where his feet were supposed to be. "Oh…" He removed the water-like fabric and held it only on his arm, which looked amputated now.

"Bloody hell…" Ron muttered, entranced, "That's an Invisibility Cloak! I've never seen one before but I've heard loads about them."

A dull thud sounded against the portrait hole from the inside. "Come on, we've got to get out of here." Harry said, holding the cloak out for Ron to get underneath too. They hurried down the corridor.

"This is dead useful!" Ron exclaimed as they raced down the marble staircase, not stopping once to glance back.

"Not if we give ourselves away!" Harry replied, slowing down to a walk. They were in the Entrance Hall. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"No clue," Ron answered with a sigh. They slumped against the high stone wall, slightly out of breath. "Can't we take this off for a moment?" He asked, gesturing to the cloak. Harry swished it off in reply. The air was fresh and crisp; they breathed it in hungrily.

"We should probably find a new place to sleep or something," Harry said.

Someone came running into the hall, not giving them enough time to react. It was a much winded Hermione. She gazed at them, her bushy hair in a cloud around her. Her robes were thrown on haphazardly. "Oh good!" she said shrilly, breaking the awkward pause, "I lost Neville back there." She frowned as she pointed up the stairs.

"Lucky kid…" Ron murmured so just Harry could hear.

"So," Hermione continued, clasping her hands together. "Where do we go now?" She shrugged, looking at them hopefully.

"Uh _we_" Ron motioned at himself and Harry, "are going to find a place to sleep!"

"Or something," Harry added quietly.

"Or something!" Ron confirmed loudly.

Hermione nodded, looking irritated. "You know, I saw a little cabin down the slope outside," Ron suggested, ignoring Hermione, "We could try there."

"Alright," Harry agreed.

"No way!" Hermione interjected, "We should stay inside the castle!"

"It's not like we're breaking any rules or anything," Ron argued as he and Harry (stuffing the cloak into his robes) walked to the door.

"Well, I'm not going," Hermione said gruffly, as if this would change their plans. She sat down on the bottom step of the marble staircase in defiance.

"Suit yourself," Ron called as they continued out the large front doors and headed down the sloping lawn towards a hut on the edge of the forest.

It wasn't long before Hermione caught up with them. "I'm coming with you," Hermione said, gasping.

"Oh goodie," Ron said, Harry rolled his eyes.

"Just to make sure you stay out of trouble." Hermione said.

Ron scoffed, "You were scared!"

"No, I wasn't!" Hermione said hotly. They stopped right in front of the hut, Hermione and Ron glared at each other; Ron, very red in the face and Hermione, flushed with glassy eyes.

"You guys, be quiet!" Harry whispered harshly. They fell silent. Harry edged to the hut's window and saw movement inside. "Someone else is here!" He mouthed to the other two.

Quickly and quietly, they scurried back up to the castle. "I told you," Hermione said smugly, "I told you not to." Once back inside, Hermione requested to use the restroom. Harry and Ron sighed but agreed.

Leaving the boys' bathroom, Ron and Harry met a horrible, overpowering odor filling the corridor. They wrinkled their noses. "What _is_ that?" Harry asked, plugging his nose.

"Smells like Hermione's made some business…" Ron smiled jokingly at Harry. But it smelled more like disgusting, old socks.

A large shadow came looming into view at the end of the corridor. A twelve-foot mountain troll, by the looks of it. It had spikey, huge feet, legs as fat as tree trunks, and a coconut-sized head sitting stupidly on its massive body. It dragged a club on the flagged stone, its arms too long to prevent otherwise. Ron and Harry exchanged a panicked look as it sauntered into a room. "Perfect!" Ron mumbled, "We can trap it in there."

But at that moment, a terrified scream rang out through the hall. "_Hermione_!" they both said together. Ron groaned as Harry motioned for him to follow. Sprinting into the girls' lavatory, they found Hermione cowering in the corner. She had tearstains on her cheeks. A fresh pump of adrenaline circulated through Harry's veins. "Hey! Over here!" he shouted.

The troll turned around, accidentally swinging the club into a sink. It smashed and flew several feet, revealing a hole. Harry ducked into a stall, "Confuse it!" He yelled to Ron. The troll started towards Harry.

"Oy! Over here, dummy!" Ron called to it; diving into the stall next to Harry's in order to miss the club swinging down again. It hit another sink which sputtered and tipped over. Water was everywhere now.

The troll advanced on them, lifting its club above its head, ready to attack. Harry and Ron stared up at it, defenseless.

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_" The club lifted out of the troll's hand and fell with a sickening thud on its head. Hermione, shaking visibly, stood in the flood of water, her wand still lifted. She shifted her eyes away from the unconscious troll and to the boys peeking above the stalls.

The three of them stood in the corridor, the bottom of their robes and shoes soaked. They all muttered an awkward "Thanks."


	7. Chapter 7 - Wizard's Duel

**Author's note:** This is a very short chapter but I decided this scene deserved one all to itself. Next chapter will be out this weekend! Happy reading!

Harry, Ron, and Hermione wandered outside again, not sure of where it was safe inside the castle. Their wet shoes made little noises in the dewy grass. The sun was rising now, casting long shadows over the lawn. "Six flags are down now…total." Hermione observed, squinting up at the four poles at the Quidditch pitch. "So four went down in the last couple hours. Two Gryffindor, two Ravenclaw."

They entered the Quidditch pitch, a structure which looked worn down. The elevated seats' colors were faded and inside, the grass was wild with weeds from neglect. The three poles on either end of the field looked slightly rusted. "Colin died," Harry said quietly to Hermione, "Ron and I saw."

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment, her brown eyes full of worry. Then she sighed, "I think Davies is dead too," Hermione nodded slowly, "He was losing a lot of blood when I last saw him. Not sure who did it though." She frowned and sat down in the tall grass.

All three sat with the invisibility cloak over them, using it as a blanket. The air was cool, clean, and crisp. Bugs lazily hummed and buzzed by. They began dozing off when they heard someone enter the pitch. "Potter!" a drawling voice called out.

They bolted to their feet, holding their wands at the ready. Harry quickly put the shining, silvery invisibility cloak back inside his robes. Malfoy approached them, his light hair bright in the sun. "Where are your little friends, Malfoy?" Harry asked, knowing his 'friends' were in no way little.

"Around…" Malfoy answered vaguely. His cold, pale eyes shifted from Harry to Hermione. He sauntered up to her, mere inches from her, until he was almost craning his neck to keep eye contact. "You're still here, I see," he said maliciously, smirking, "That's a surprise." Hermione glared at him but stood as still as a statue, frozen to the spot. "Lucky that Weasley girl was there last time… She _does_ know her hexes…" He cocked his head to the left and frowned; his neck was hurt. "I don't think her brother would be much of a help." He added nastily, casting a sideways glance at Ron whose ears turned pink. He reached up a finger and brushed it against Hermione's cheek, near her lip, where her injury from the first morning was barely visible. Hermione clenched her jaw. "I'll make sure to leave more of a mark next time." He made a twisted grin and circled behind her, glancing at Harry and Ron occasionally. They had their wands raised and anger on their faces.

Malfoy looked slightly amused. "Why so stiff, Granger?" he asked behind her, leaning in to whisper in her ear. Hermione didn't move a muscle. "Still sore?" He whispered cynically. He put a hand to her back and she winced.

Suddenly, Malfoy was blasted backward as Harry fired a spell. "Don't touch her," Harry warned, "This is between you and me."

Malfoy stood up, eyes flashing dangerously, "Alright, Potter, have it your way." he spat, "A wizard's duel it is!" He pulled his wand out of his sleeve, aiming it at Harry's chest.

Everything was still as the grave. All the bugs became mute and hardly anyone dared to breathe. The two young wizards faced each other, keeping their distance. Dirt and disgust coated their intense expressions. Suddenly, Harry shouted a spell at Malfoy; he blocked it. Harry casted another curse his way, but he blocked it again. Purple light jet toward Harry but he dodged it. When Harry barely let his guard down, he got hit with a stream of light and flew backward.

Harry felt much winded, hardly able to breathe. He struggled to stand back up and felt very shaky. He trembled as he fixed his glasses that were knocked askew. "Is it worth it, Potter?" Malfoy shouted, "Ending up like your parents all for some stupid Mudblood?"

Ron lunged at him, "HOW DARE YOU?!" he yelled, curses flying out of his wand. Malfoy squirmed and grimaced with every spell that hit him. "APOLOGIZE TO HER!" Ron's face was red with rage. Ron hit him with another spell; Draco groaned and stumbled back a bit. He shot a spell at Ron who gasped and clutched his side, staggering to his knees. Malfoy wiped some blood with the back of his hand and aimed his wand with certain finality at Ron. Hermione sniffled, tears in her terrified eyes, a short distance away as she saw the scene unfold. Malfoy shifted his gaze to her, distracted for only a second.

But a second too long. Harry sent a curse at the boy. Malfoy fell hard on the ground where he stood. He looked up at Ron and Harry with a look of pure loathing, propping himself up on his elbows. His chest heaved, trying to catch his breath, blood rolled down his face from a scrape near his eyebrow. Harry and Ron stood over him, ready to finish him off.

A scream echoed from a region not too far away.

"C'mon, Ron!" Harry called when the screaming continued. He moved away from Malfoy. "It could be someone from Gryffindor!" Harry desperately explained to Ron whose face was set in stone.

Ron didn't move. "Ron," Hermione's voice quivered slightly, "Let's go." Ron still didn't move. "Ron!" She and Harry made their way swiftly to the end of the pitch, both stopped to wait, beckoning with urgency.

Ron watched Draco look at Hermione and back up at him, a cynical smile playing with his lips. "Your girlfriend's calling you, Weasley."

Ron kicked Malfoy in the stomach and walked away after Harry and Hermione.


End file.
